


The Start, a Simple Touch

by chronicallyNaughty (chronicallyHaughty)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Cisgirl!Damian Wayne, Cisgirl!Tim Drake, Cunnilingus, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63!Damian Wayne, Rule 63!Tim Drake, timdamiweek, timdamiweek2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicallyHaughty/pseuds/chronicallyNaughty
Summary: “I just don’t see what’s so great about it. Why people throw all caution and all common sense to the wind for…that,” she sneered, lips curled in distaste. “It’s not very exciting, all said.”





	The Start, a Simple Touch

**Author's Note:**

> (Rather hastily) written for TimDami Week, Day 6: Virginity Kink. The kink part is very light, I'm afraid. Title is from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_bx8bnCoiU). Unbeta'd.

“Wait, what?” Drake looked up from her laptop, bewilderment evident on her face.

It took some effort, but Damayanti fought off the urge to defensively curl in on herself.

“I just don’t see what’s so great about it. Why people throw all caution and all common sense to the wind for… _that_ ,” she sneered, lips curled in distaste. “It’s not very exciting, all said.”

Drake raised an eyebrow at her in incredulity.

“Most people find the finale rather appealing,” she said pointedly, and Dami glowered at her.

“What, the slimy _mess_ of a man? Not something that appeals to me, remember?” Dami replied, hackles rising at Drake’s tone. She said it like it was obvious, leaving Dami feeling like she was missing some part of the context. Never a good feeling for her, because what was she if not perfectly in control?

“I meant _your_ orgasm, but okay, princess,” Drake said with a roll of her eyes, going back to her data. Ah. That.

“Tt.” Dami hesitated but she wanted to know, damn it. And she didn’t dare look it up on the computer since the others might come across her internet history, nor did she want to actually ask anyone, but now that the perfect opportunity had presented itself… “How do you even tell if you have one?”

Drake jerked and blinked up at her, before her face shifted into a look of pity. Dami immediately bristled.

“It’s not as straight-forward as giving a dick a few tugs, that’s for sure. Shit, how do I…” Drake was massaging her temples and Dami, surely very red in the face, got to her feet to abscond with a threat ready to ensure this embarrassing conversation was kept a secret forever. “No, sit down. I’m sorry. You wanna girl talk? Let’s girl talk. You know about the clitoris, right?”

Dami didn’t want to girl talk, Dami wanted to sink through the floor and into the depths of the earth. She nodded anyway, sitting back down and studiously avoiding looking at Drake.

“When you try to get off, what happens?”

Dami didn’t _have_ to look at her to know what face she was making. It was clear by Drake’s voice alone that this had now become a puzzle for her to solve. Dami was torn between feeling insulted and relieved that Drake was treating this more like a faulty machinery than something being wrong with _Dami_.

“ _Nothing_ happens,” Dami replied, opening her mouth to continue but stopping short, finding herself at a loss for words. What was it that was supposed to _happen_? It felt nice enough, Dami supposed, but it wasn’t… She chanced a glance at Drake and, sure enough, she was looking back at Dami with her ‘make this machine work’-face on.

“Maybe you’re not doing it right.” Drake’s eyes were sweeping across Dami’s body now, and she felt her cheeks heat even further.

“I’m _touching_ , what else _is_ there?” she snapped, crossing her arms to cover up her chest.

There was another pause, this one paired with an incredulous look from Drake.

“I… don’t know what to say to that. Do you watch porn?”

“ _Absolutely not_.”

“You’re really not helping me help you!” Drake actually threw her hands up like some character from an American cartoon.

“I didn’t _ask_ for your help!”

They always ended up shouting at each other, didn’t they? There was a complicated snarl of angry feelings in Dami’s chest over that. She didn’t _want_ to fight with Drake all the time, she was tired of it, she just wanted to get along with her somehow. At least so far as to coexist peacefully. Why did Drake have to make that so difficult?

“Then why are you still _here_?” Drake said, exasperation bleeding through her words and something searching in the way she looked at Dami now.

She was proud, surely Drake knew this? It wasn’t easy for her to ask for help. Drake closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, seeming to be fighting off a headache. Dami didn’t mean for that to happen. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and stubbornly refused to answer. Before she could try to leave again, Drake carried on.

“Look, I think everyone deserves an orgasm or two. _I want to help_. Maybe it’ll even improve your general attitude, doing us all a favor, what do I know?” Drake mustered a smirk, and Dami rolled her eyes at her with a huff, secretly pleased that they had somehow ended up in some sort of playful territory. They _could_ play nice. For a while. “But unless you want me to literally _show_ you…” Drake shrugged.

At that implication Dami felt her face, having started to cool some, flush right back to beet red. _Show_ her? As in… Drake’s eyebrows rose up towards her hairline, until they were nearly hidden beneath her fringe.

“I wouldn’t strictly speaking mind showing you a thing or two?” She said it like a question, and Dami was surprised at how badly she wanted to answer it with a yes. Not because she found Drake particularly attractive, that was ridiculous, but because she wanted to _know_. Drake clearly knew about these things, would it be so bad to have her as a teacher? A, a trainer? Dami had had many trainers in many subjects. This could be like that.

Resolute, Dami met Drake’s eyes. She ignored the little voice in the very back of her mind that was insisting that this might be her only chance to ever get to actually _do_ sex-things, and gave the other woman a decisive nod.

“I would like to learn.”

—————

When Damayanti Wayne hit fourteen, she finally stopped growing, and once she was done she stood over six feet tall. She had always been the recipient of quite a few stares in her school, but once she started towering over girls and boys alike the whispers had started back up again in a way they hadn’t in years. However, she held her head high and _endured_ , as though she didn’t care one bit what they thought of her. And she didn’t.

In fact, she valued her height and the muscle mass she was building, and though some nights she laid awake wondering if she would ever draw the interest of a boy, she got over that part rather quickly once she realised her preferences laid with girls and girls alone. _Compulsory heterosexuality_ , Kane had called it when Dami first went to her for advice. A fittingly ominous name for such an insidious thing, Dami thought.

She refused to be cowed by preconceived notions and rules of femininity, and learned to walk in high heels until she was of height with her father. He didn’t say it in so many words, but Dami could tell that he was proud of her. She learned from Wonder Woman to act as though the idea of ‘male dominated fields’ had never even occurred to her, and heroes and businessmen alike learned to step back when they saw her coming.

By age twenty-one she sat next to her father in the boardroom, and when she spoke, commanding respect, she received it without question. Her mother could have been proud of her, too, had she known or cared.

Timothea Drake-Wayne commanded respect in subtler ways. More the shrewd puppeteer than the raw power wielder Dami preferred to be in the business world, it reflected back on their nighttime alter egos. Where Red Robin was all calculated guerrilla warfare, sneaking attacks from the shadows and running the exhausted enemy into the ground, Blackbird liked to hit things until they stopped fighting back. Naturally, Dami _could_ be as stealthy as Red Robin, she just found outright violence to be a lot more fun.

Todd claimed she was his favorite.

Walking down the hall next to Tim Drake with the eventual goal of doing some sort of sex-thing with her felt just a bit unreal. Dami hadn’t even noticed that she was frowning until Drake pointed it out.

“Y’know, Dami, you could be so pretty if only you’d smile.” Dami had already been a bit tense, but now she was even more so.

“I don’t appreciate your mockery, Drake.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Drake frowned up at her. Dami absently noted that her hair looked like she’d simply rolled out of bed, and ironically she was wearing a sweater proclaiming that she ‘woke up like this’. Dami sneered down at her. “Really, I’m not!”

“I wasn’t made to be _pretty_ , nor do I have any desire to be.”

Dami kept walking, long legs forcing Drake to half-jog to keep up. Petty, perhaps, but oh-so-satisfying.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted you to relax a little.” Drake’s voice was infuriatingly patient. It was getting on Dami’s nerves.

“I don’t find being condescended to relaxing.”

“Look, if you don’t want to do this–,” Drake started, without taking the bait.

“I already _told_ you.”

“Just,” Drake’s voice softened, and she reached out as though to grab Dami’s hand, but she aborted the movement before following through, to Dami’s relief. Really, she didn’t want comfort. She was a Wayne, she didn’t need it. “Remember that you’re allowed to change your mind whenever, okay?”

“Tt. Have you ever even _seen_ a hairbrush, Drake?” Dami deflected, unwilling to think about anything that could make her lose her nerve. “Perhaps you should try using one, one day.”

“Oh, I’ve _used_ some, alright.” The purr was entirely unexpected, and Dami inanely thought of Kyle for a moment, before Drake’s meaning became clear.

“W-what?” They had reached Dami’s bedroom door, but her feet were suddenly frozen to the ground.

“Maybe I’ll show you,” Drake said, actually _winking_ at her before opening the door.

—————

They were kissing, and kissing, Dami had decided, was _nice_. Drake’s hands had not taken long to start wandering, and now they were stroking her sides, occasionally brushing the sides of her breasts through her clothes. Just being all tangled up with another person was addictive, but Dami didn’t have the wherewithal to worry about that right then. In truth, she didn’t really have any brain power to spare for _anything_ that wasn’t sensation. Drake’s hair tickled her neck as she moved her attention to Dami’s  _ear_ of all things. To her surprise Drake’s lips on her earlobe felt amazing, and she moaned out loud before she could stop herself.

Embarrassed, she turned her face away from Drake only for her to start kissing down her neck instead. Had her neck always been so sensitive? Drake hummed against her skin, peppering it with kisses, going down, down, until her mouth hit fabric. She looked up, meeting Dami’s eyes.

“Wanna lose the shirt?” It was a genuine question, rather than an order disguised as one. A kindness Dami should have expected, and yes, she did want to lose the shirt.

She sat up, forcing Drake to sit back on her haunches, and went to pull her t-shirt over her head. At this point the blush on her cheeks might be a permanent thing, but Dami was prepared to accept that. All for a good cause. Feeling bold, Dami grabbed the sports bra she was wearing underneath as she went, leaving her chest entirely bare before Drake as she let her clothes hit the floor.

“Gorgeous,” Drake breathed, before gently pushing Dami back into the pillows. She was expecting Drake to return to her earlier ministrations at once, but instead she remained where she was, considering Dami from her seat on top of her. Drake let her hands rest on Dami’s abs for a moment, face appreciative, making a curl of pride alight in Dami’s chest, before sliding up until she was stroking the underside of her breasts.

Without any fabric in the way, the sensation was exquisite. Dami realised quite abruptly that she was wet. Just a little fondling, and her body already _wanted_ so badly. For some reason, that thought made her even more excited. Drake finally leaned forward, but instead of Dami’s neck or mouth her lips found her left nipple. Dami couldn’t help herself, she bucked against the weight on her hips, want so strong in her blood it felt like a drug. Smirking, Drake moved up to kiss her mouth again, chaste, before moving to the side of her neck.

“Play with your tits for me,” Drake breathed against her skin, lips brushing it so softly, one hand propping her up above Dami and the other caressing Dami’s hip, toying with the waistband of her underwear. Then she bit down, and _oh_.

“Oh–!” Dami’s back arched with the pleasure, and her hands, how had her hands ended up on her breasts? Her fingertips brushed against her soft nipples, rubbing them and making them harden. It felt good, so much better in company than it ever had when she was doing this alone.

“Good girl,” Drake praised, and Dami _felt_ like a good girl. Her sex grew even wetter and Dami could have sworn it was… _tingling_.

Drake kissed down her neck, to her collarbone, and slipped two fingers under the side of her panties. She looked up, and the blue-gray of her eyes could barely be seen, her pupils were so large. Dami swallowed in anticipation.

“Off?”

“Yes,” she managed, voice hoarse.

Drake smiled at her, and _how_ had Dami ever thought of her as unattractive? Right then she was the most beautiful girl Dami had ever seen.

Together they stripped Dami’s panties off, then Drake’s sweater, and her panties too, and they were both completely naked. Drake looked at her like Dami was the best thing she had ever seen and Dami had never felt more beautiful. Drake ducked back down to Dami’s chest, lips and teeth and tongue playing with her breasts while she slowly ground down against Dami. Oh god, she was wet as well. Because of _Dami_. If nothing else, this whole experience was certainly serving to boost Dami’s self-esteem, she thought dizzily while trying to push her chest up closer to that wonderful mouth.

That mouth was moving downwards, as Drake slipped her hands to grasp Dami’s where they were clutching at the bedding, moving them up to replace her mouth. Dami whined but complied, going back to toy with the sensitive flesh, scraping her short nails over her nipples and bringing another pitiful noise past her parted lips.

“Mm,” Drake murmured between kisses dropped around Dami’s belly button. “It’s cute, how responsive you are.”

“Shut,” Dami tried, but all words fled when Drake’s mouth brushed against the top of her outer labia, and the noise she made was close to a yell. A huff of breath against her told Dami she was being laughed at, and she felt her ears burn with embarrassment and a small measure of shame. Somehow this didn’t diminish her arousal.

“Dami.” Oh god, did she have to speak so close to Dami’s sex? Her hands dropped away from her breasts to clutch at the sheets, nervous again. “What I said before still stands. If you want to stop, at any point…” She trailed off meaningfully, and when she said nothing else Dami risked looking down.

Drake looked like a mess, even more so than usual, sweat plastering her fringe to her forehead, but she was smiling so sweetly and Dami _wanted_.

“I will tell you.” It felt important to actually _say_ it. “I want this. Only… I don’t want to fail.”

“Your only job right now is to _feel_ , alright? Can’t fail at that. You’re doing great,” Drake grinned up at her before turning her attention to Dami’s hip bones, mouthing at them with quite a bit of teeth.

Reassured that Drake wasn’t making fun of her, Dami let herself sink into the sensations once more. Slowly Drake was moving her mouth down towards Dami’s thighs, leaving kisses and little bites in her wake. It felt as though the temperature was drastically rising in the room.

Her focus on those lips and teeth was so complete that she only realised she was squirming when Drake spread her legs further, pushing them into the bedding and getting comfortable between them. Dami watched as though through a haze as she winked up at her and bent down to kiss her _down there_. With _tongue_. Dami had to cover her mouth with one hand to hold back the noise her body wanted to make, the other flying to grab at Drake’s hair.

Dami couldn’t think, she could hardly breathe. The sensation was exquisite. A slow, steady pressure that was quickly turning excruciating, building up towards something. She slapped her other hand over the one already covering her mouth, trying to force down the scream that wanted out. Drake didn’t let up, obscene, wet noises from where her mouth was on… was on Dami’s _sex_. Lips around Dami’s _clit_ , sucking it, before she was moving down to kiss at her opening. This was nothing like her own fumblings in the dark, this was unlike anything Dami had ever experienced before. She felt as though she was coming apart at the seams.

“Drake, _Tim_ , I…!”

Tim hummed with her tongue _inside of her_ , and Dami died. It certainly felt that way, like exploding, like all the tension in her body coming to a point at once. It was _release_ , pure and simple, pleasure rushing through her like a tidal wave. Her body arched, muscles clenching over and over, leaving her shaking with the force of it, and she realised that the wanton keening she was hearing came from her own mouth. The laughter came from Tim’s, however. Drake’s. Either way, Dami could barely hear it over the rush of blood through her head, and right then she didn't even care.

As the ecstasy and the trembling subsided, she fell limp to the bed, breathing heavily. She felt dizzy, and exceedingly wet and swollen down there. Where Tim, Drake, was _still_ … With what could only be described as a whimper Dami pushed Tim’s head away, leaving her to kiss at her thighs instead.

“ _Tim_ ,” she breathed out, without thinking. The woman in question laughed quietly and crawled back up to lie down next to Dami, meeting her eyes with a small grin. Her lower face was soaked.

“So, an orgasm is all it takes to get you to call me by name?” Dami huffed a laugh, amused beside herself, even as she felt embarrassed as such an obvious sign of her own excitement.

“I suspect one gets more accustomed to them with time, _Drake_ ,” she teased trying for playful and feeling gratified when Tim laughed with delight.

“You say that now, but just you wait until you try a vibrator.”

“Please, _mercy_ ,” Dami groaned, ending in a laugh as Tim reached over to tickle her side.

She squirmed away from her hands, and Tim followed, rolling around until they were all tangled up together, just breathing in the quiet of the evening. By Dami's estimation it wasn’t even dinner time yet. She would need a shower, Dami thought, a bit inanely. Her hands seemed prone to acting without her consent today, as once again she found herself with her fingers tangled in Tim’s hair. She tried to untangle the birds nest it was resembling, but gave up once it proved more difficult than anticipated. For a moment they just lay there, basking in each others’ body heat.

“Tim?” At her questioning noise, Dami continued, “Did you…?”

“Nah,” Tim yawned, getting comfortable with her head tucked under Dami’s chin. Her hair tickled, but Dami would never dream of asking her to move. “Don’t need to. I liked making you feel good, ‘s nice. This is nice, too.”

Dami swallowed down a sudden surge of affection for this impossibly frustrating woman, who would give so much and ask so little in return. She tightened her grip and Tim hummed, pleased. This was, indeed, very nice. Dinner wasn’t for another couple of hours, so they could afford to nap for a bit… Dami drifted off to the feeling of a kiss being dropped over her heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a tumblr post [here](http://chronicallyhaughty.tumblr.com/post/168286148429/). That's my writing blog, but [this](http://nattvingen.tumblr.com/) is my main blog where I post a lot of DC stuff.


End file.
